In tune with the nation's sympathies

Gillian Reynolds

12:01AM GMT 18 Jan 2005

Gillian Reynolds on the response of 250 commercial radio stations to the Boxing Day tsunami

The Prime Minister was sitting in the studio, waiting to be interviewed, live. Chris Evans told him he'd have to wait while they talked first to Sting. "I know my place," said the Rt Hon Anthony Charles Lynton Blair.

Evans, back on radio for the first time since he went absent without leave from Virgin three years ago, was doing the breakfast show on UK Radio Aid, claimed to be the biggest radio event ever.

Here was a one-day national radio station, a unique 7am-7pm collaboration between 250 commercial stations, local and national, digital and analogue, to raise funds for the survivors of the Boxing Day tsunami.

The Prime Minister, Evans, Sting et al were not only on, for instance, Capital in London. They were also on Classic FM, LBC, Magic, Heart, and almost everywhere else throughout the country, (though not talkSport, Gaydar, Sunrise, or Saga) talking to 26 million listeners.

When the Prime Minister was finally allotted his place, he read, flawlessly, a vast screed for one of the auction items – a phone for life, a mobile endlessly updated – then admitted he doesn't carry one. He also failed to identify the "crazy frog" ringtone.

He did, however, offer an auction item of his own – a tour of Downing Street, a book signed by all the living Prime Ministers and a cup of tea with him. In person. (The bidding on this was nowhere near as brisk as that for a dinner with George Michael and partner Kenny.)

Sportingly, he took part in "Is This Your Life?", a quiz devised for the celebrity guests, four easy personal questions and a tricky one. He failed this last one: which pocket-money job did he do in his teens? The PM seemed flummoxed. It was, Evans told him, repairing bikes.

Evans, unflummoxed, chatted amiably to all, talked about his stall in Camden Market, interviewed Liam Gallagher over the phone (Liam did better than the PM on "Is This Your Life?") and donated an auction prize, a seat at his table at the Brits (on which bidding was less brisk than that for George Michael, though brisker than that for the Downing Street tour.)

Money flowed in. Every time someone texted, in pursuit of one of the draw prizes (luxury holidays, etc) £1.50 went to the cause. By 9am, they'd reached half a million pounds. By 11am, they were over £850,000.

It was, by any standards, a remarkable day. Celebrity DJs doing two-hour slots, celebrity guests by the bushel, well-chosen music, chats with stations round the country, surprise prizes (Sting gave his bass guitar, Jamie Cullum his piano), lots of advertisements, few hitches, smooth opt-out slots for each station to identify itself and spur on local listeners' efforts – and a good result. It just goes to show what commercial radio can do when it tries, seriously, to connect.

The cause, of course, is a good one. Public response to it has already been vast, unprecedented. Readers of this newspaper haven't hesitated. I was thinking about this over the weekend, wondering why ordinary people gave so spontaneously and immediately, putting governments to shame. It came to me that it might be because here was a cause where there is no baddie, no blame. Something awful happened, and it was no one's fault. How rare that is.

This dropped into my mind while I was listening to Epiclesis on Saturday, during the James MacMillan weekend at the Barbican. I'd paid for a season ticket ages ago.

When Friday arrived, I began to wonder why I was going. Because I had heard some of his music, I told myself; because I thought I would understand it better if I saw it performed; because there are times when I can't take any more talking.

Musical people will scorn this verbal detox. It works for me. It did again. Thoughts that couldn't arrange themselves suddenly did. A big grief, lurking for a year, stopped its assault.

I would not have got this without being there, concentrating. I know I would have turned off the radio when it started sounding like a banshee in a tree. Yet if it hadn't been for BBC radio I would never have approached MacMillan's complex, passionate, transformative music. This weekend, I really listened – and it's cheered me up enough to go back on the words.